


One Day (Abandoned)

by woahwoahwoah



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Anorexia, Bullying, Child Abuse, Eating Disorders, Fainting, Fluff, Food Issues, Harry is 15 Louis is 16, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of calories, Possibly smut in later chapters, Ridiculous, Ridiculous amounts of crying and cuddling, Self-Harm, Swearing, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahwoahwoah/pseuds/woahwoahwoah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is sick. Harry wants to help him. But not here. They have to run away.</p><p>(I'm not adding more to this story but am keeping it up just for the sake of it, I have been trying to write something lately so hopefully now that I'm not in school anymore I'll have the time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't just the tiredness, or the small smirk Stan had on his face the entire time he read the list. 

"This...", he snorted, shaking the paper, laugh beginning to bubble in his throat, "... Is so fucking lame".

"Give it back Stan", Harry growled softly, tone saying nothing but I-am-entirely-done-with-your-shit.  
Harry swiped for the crumpled paper in Stan's hand but Stan moved it out of his reach.

"Honestly though Louis, this is the faggiest shit I've ever read in my life".

"Fuck up Stan"

Stan cleared his throat and began to read in a high pitched voice imitating Louis, "Four, meet my soulmate, twelve, have a picnic at midnight, fifteen, reach my goal weight, twenty two, sing for a crowd", Stan laughed out loud and Niall and Zayn giggled a little, "what are you Lou, a thirteen year old girl?"

Louis felt his cheeks redden furiously as he read the list aloud, Louis grabbed for the paper again but Stan just pulled away and laughed again. 

"This is actually the saddest bucket list I've read"

"Stan...", Harry started, voice noticeably angrier than before.

"Honestly Louis you are such a faggot, I don't even know why I'm friends with you"

And it wasn't just that Stan had actually gone through his belongings and found this with the pure intent to bully him, and it wasn't even the word 'faggot'. When Louis' fist met the side of Stan's nose it was to stop Harry getting worked up.

"What the fuck Louis?!", Stan yelped, holding his hands to his nose, where blood was already leaking over his lips, "it was a fucking joke you prick!".

Louis just freaked, he stood up from the table and walked away, behind the languages department, towards the school gates. 

Harry stood up after him, he looked down at his friends, Stan holding his face, blood dripping onto his pristine designer shirt, Liam digging through his backpack, presumedly for tissues, Niall staring up at Harry and Zayn with his arm around Stan's shoulders.  
Harry gave them each a glare before quickly bending down to pick up the forgotten list, and following Louis behind the classrooms.

"Lou!", he called, speed walking to try and catch him. Slipping the list into his pocket.

He turned the corner and caught sight of his light blue backpack leaving the school.

"Louis!", he yelled, breaking into a jog.  
Louis walked as fast as he could, but obviously too fast because his vision began to blur as soon as he turned into the street and he had the undeniable urge to sit down.

"Louis! Lou...", his name was called from behind the gate, and then breathed softly from above him, tall figure shadowing Louis' entirety from the sun. 

"You okay, love?", he sighed, falling onto his knees beside Louis, leaning against the fence Louis had collapsed against. 

"Your hand okay?", Harry tried again, pulling his right hand gently away from his face, to get a look at the slightly pink and swelling knuckles.  
Harry pressed his lips against the hot skin, and sighed deeply.

"Louis, baby..."  
Louis dug his face into his bony knees. He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't.  
But the tingle of his hand where Harry had kissed it was giving him goosebumps. The gentleness mixing with the harshness he felt all over his body, making him feel sick.

"It's okay boo", he whispered, long fingers stroking the slope of his shoulders. 

Tears started slipping out, running down his nose and onto his navy school uniform trousers.  
Louis drew in a shaky breath and Harry's fingers tightened on his shoulder in response. 

"Lou?"

More tears fell and Louis let out a soft sob that he couldn't control. 

"Oh baby, oh love, oh Louis", Harry breathed, voice cracking slightly.  
Louis' entire body began shaking as he tried to control the sobs erupting from his throat. 

"Let it all out baby", Harry whispered into his curls, long arms stretching around Louis' tiny body.  
Louis let his cries take over as Harry held him. 

"I wanna go ho-ome", Louis sobbed, "take me home", Louis begged, tugging at Harry's sweater desperately, eyes wide with panic and tears. 

"Okay Lou", Harry nodded, loosening his grip and standing up slowly. 

"Up?", Harry asked, holding his hand out to help Louis up. Louis reached up for Harry's ridiculously huge hand.  
Harry pulled him up and as soon as Louis stood up completely his knees gave in and his vision went white. 

"Oops", Louis said as his vision came back and he looked up at Harry's concerned expression from his knees, "I'm okay", Louis insisted, but not attempting to stand up again.  
Harry's eyebrows furrowed together and he bit his lip nervously as he inspected Louis below him.

"You haven't eaten today...", he stated, it wasn't even a question. And he just sounded ridiculously sad about it.  
Louis looked down, embarrassed and feeling naked under Harry's concerned stare.  
Before he could tell what was happening Harry's hands were under his armpits, pulling him up and into Harry's long arms. Cradling him like an infant.

"Oh god Lou", he whimpered, "you're so tiny". He brought Louis closer to his chest as Louis let out a whimper of protest. 

Harry began to walk up the street, carrying Louis effortlessly in his arms.  
He considered stopping in at the bakery, but knew Louis would protest, sugary things didn't sit well with him, and even a savoury muffin or sandwich wouldn't make it into Louis' mouth, for the fact alone he didn't know what was in it. 

Harry walked the fifteen minutes to Louis house as briskly as possible, humming softly as Louis nuzzled against his chest as Harry walked. 

Harry managed to open the gate, get Louis' key out of his backpack and unlock the door with Louis in his arms. Slowly letting his eyes droop as he cradled him.  
Harry turned into the living room and Louis shook his head desperately. 

"No Harry, no, just want to sleep", he begged, wriggling out of Harry's arms as he lowered him to sit on the dining room table. 

"Gotta have something to eat baby", Harry murmured into Louis' fringe. 

The only person that could get Louis to eat was Harry, and Louis hated that about him.

Louis sat on the table, swinging his legs so they hit the edge of the table, pain keeping him aware.

Harry pulled out three pieces of bread, some left over chicken, a banana, and an apple.  
Harry washed his hands carefully, then he carefully pulled out a plastic plate from the cupboard, then he carefully washed the apple, before peeling the skin off and cutting it into small delicate pieces. Just big enough for Louis to have to chew properly but too small for him to choke on. 

He then sprinkled a pathetic amount of chicken onto one of the slices of bread and then folded it and cut off the rounded edge. 

He placed the plate on the table and Louis swivelled around to sit at the chair facing the food. 

He watched Harry make himself a proper chicken sandwich with mayonnaise and margarine and two slices of bread. He placed it on his plate alongside his banana, before carrying it to sit opposite Louis at the table.

"Eat, it's lunch, it's good", Harry prompted, taking a large bite of his sandwich. 

"It's white bread", Louis whispered, staring at his sandwich like it was poison. 

"There was no other bread Lou", Harry sighed, biting his lip. 

"I c-", Louis started before Harry stopped him, "there's nothing wrong with white bread Louis, it's a myth".

Louis picked up one of the apple slices and chewed it gingerly, swallowing like it was painful.  
And it probably was, Harry thought, knowing Louis threw up what little he ate. Mind taking him back to the day Harry found Louis passed out in his bathroom, vomit in the toilet, blood in his mouth and on his fingers.

"Harry, I can't eat roast chicken", Louis spoke up again, "only grilled".

"Lou, c'mon baby, you used to love my mums roasts, always used to come over on Sunday", Harry prompted, tears beginning to fill his green eyes. 

Louis looked back down at the food Harry had prepared so carefully for him, "don't cry", he whispered, "please".

Harry nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. 

"Please eat Lou", he spoke softly through the lump in his throat. 

"I can't, I'm too upset about what happened with Stan", 

"I know Lou, but you need to eat, you almost passed out before"

"I've eaten half an apple Harry!",

"And how many calories is that Louis? You need 1600 a day, but you're underweight so you need more anyway, did you eat yesterday? You need to make up for all this lost energy!", Harry stressed, squeezing his sandwich so mayonnaise dribbled from the bread onto the plate. Louis almost gagged. 

"Half an apple, is 30 calories", Louis answered.

Harry just stared at his plate. 

After Louis forced down almost all of the apple and half the half-sandwich Harry let him finish. 

"Come", Harry prompted as he placed his plate in the dishwasher, where Louis then placed his. 

Harry opened the little silver container on the bench and grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer.

"Harry no", Louis begged, "please"

Harry scooped up a teaspoon of sugar and held it out to Lou, waiting for him to put it in his mouth. 

"Fuck....", Louis exasperated, "why do you do this Harry? Every time..."

Harry just shrugged, "I always forget to put sugar in your food, you need it for the dizziness, blood sugar levels... And all that, I don't know"

Harry looked so concerned for Louis' health, so earnest to help him, that he just opened his mouth without protest, letting Harry slip the cool teaspoon into his mouth. Louis' senses taking over and taking the sweet granules in, letting them dissolve in his mouth.

His head was pounding from the sudden amount of food that had entered his system. Food made him feel sick. That's why he didn't eat. 

"Harry I feel sick", Louis stressed, "Harry I'm going to be sick".

Harry just looked at him sadly and scooped him back up in his arms.  
Louis nuzzled into Harry's neck, breathing in apples, cinnamon, cigarette smoke and charcoal. 

Next thing he knew Harry was laying him down on his bed.

"Please Harry", he whimpered, "I just wanna sleep"

"You're in bed baby it's, okay"

"Stay", Louis pulled on his shirt. "Please".  
"'Course babe", Harry sighed, "I always stay".

Louis fell asleep cuddled up to Harry, Harry's hands rubbing circles around Louis' sore tummy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I apologise greatly for using the F word again, but it's kinda hard not to when you're focusing on homophobia, ya feel?)

Louis woke to the sound of glass smashing. 

It was pitch black outside, and there was something warm and solid pressed against his side.  
He turned slightly and his face met a head of soft curls. 

Harry. 

"FAGGOT!"

He sighed. His father was home.

The events of yesterday came flooding back.  
The list. The punch. The crying. The food.

"OI FAGGOT!"  
The voice was closer now, booming through the house, and shaking the walls. And before Louis could begin to process what was happening his door flew open and light flooded the once dark room. 

Harry stirred slightly in his sleep. And a fist clenched in Louis' shirt, snapping him up violently from his bed. 

"Who the fuck is this?", his father hissed, the smell of alcohol, tobacco and weed choking him slightly.

Louis didn't answer.

"Who the fuck is this in my house you faggot!?", his father was screaming now and Harry had obviously woken up, Harry's fingers stroking his backbone through his shirt, in an attempt to comfort, but not doing much. 

"You're disgusting", his father hissed again.  
"You have 24 hours to get out of my fucking house".  
Then he let go of Louis and slammed his door shut.

When the door shut he instantaneously burst into tears.

"Oh Lou", Harry sighed, pulling him in and pressing Louis against him. Hugging him fiercely as if to try and keep him safe, or from breaking.  
"Oh baby"

"He doesn't mean it", Louis sobbed, "he always... says... things like... this", struggling between breaths.

Harry pulled Louis flush against his chest, Louis' tears seeping through Harry's shirt.

"You said you're safe here, Lou, this isn't safe," 

"I'm fine."

"That's not fine", Harry sighed into Louis' feathery hair.

Louis didn't reply and just buried his face further into Harry's chest. Pathetic little hiccupy sobs coming from Louis' throat and matching the rhythm of Harry's jerky heart beat.

Louis fell asleep with his fingers digging into Harry's side, like he was scared that he'd slip out of his grip if he held him any looser. 

\- - -

Harry was shaking Louis awake in the first wakes of morning. 

"Lou", he whispered heavily into Louis' ear.

"Haz?", Louis sat up, opening his tired eyes to find Harry's desperate eyes lit softly by the soft light coming from behind the tatty curtains. 

"We're leaving", Harry said, whispering like he was afraid of what he was saying. 

"Leaving? What? Where? What's the time?"

"Yes, we're leaving, my house first then away, and it's just past 4", Harry spoke louder, ticking off Louis' questions and beginning to pick clothes off Louis' floor and inspecting them before either throwing them in Louis' school bag.

"It's so early!", Louis protested, sitting up fully now and rubbing his eyes clumsily with loose fists. 

"I know", Harry replied, "it's why we're leaving", he picked up a shirt with a large stain of who-knows-what and crinkled his nose in disgust before throwing it in the general direction of his dresser.

"Harry why are you packing my clothes? We don't have to go anywhere? He doesn't mean it, he probably doesn't even remember, he was drunk!", Louis stressed, swinging his legs from the bed and wringing his hands roughly.

"He hurt you."  
Harry stated, stuffing a pair of hideous red jeans in his backpack.

"I can't let that happen again."  
He zipped up the back pocket and scanned the room before carefully placing his CD selection, his phone charger, and his stuffed bear 'Blue', that he'd had since he was a child. 

"Anything else you want to take, put them in the bag. I'm going to pee."

Louis nodded and when Harry left he grabbed his journal, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a small container of razor blades, and a wallet from under his mattress.  
He shoved the items under the clothes in his bag and zipped the bag back up before Harry returned.

"Ready?", Harry asked.  
Louis just nodded, holding the backpack in his hand, trembling slightly. 

\- - -

The ride to Harry's house was worryingly silent.  
Louis had let Harry drive his car and Louis had sat in the passengers seat and chewed on the skin of his thumb the whole time.  
Harry didn't turn on his weird hipster music. So something was obviously upsetting him. 

Harry fished his house key out of his bag and opened the door without any attempt to stay quiet. 

"It's like 4 in the morning", Louis remarked when he flung the door open and let it hit the wall.

"Parents aren't home", he answered. Which, really, Louis should have figured from the empty driveway. 

Harry shuffled into the dark house, carrying his and Louis' school bags, mumbling something that sounded like 'never fucking home'.  
Louis followed Harry up the stairs and into his room. 

Harry's room was immaculate, as always. Harry is probably the neatest 16 year old boy that exists. Harry thinks Louis' room is disgusting, and doesn't refrain from letting him know every time he goes there. 

Louis sits on Harry's bed and looks at his walls, like he does every time he goes there.  
Harry's walls are filled with posters, photos, concert tickets, pictures of kittens, stupid hipster quotes from the Internet.  
Louis swears there's something new every time, and Harry assures him there is. 

There's a new line of posters above his door, Fall Out Boy, Imagine Dragons, Taylor Swift (really Harry? Really?), Drake (Louis can't help but snort), Bastille and Ed Sheeran.  
The bottom of his wardrobe door is littered with tiny pencil doodles, that looks like a mix of Zayn's drawings and Harry's little half hearted spirals and hearts and a kitten which kinda looks like a horse.

Louis shifts off the bed and shuffles towards the wardrobe, a pencil is blue tacked to the door and Louis draws a really bad cartoon version of Harry. He makes his smile too big and his curls too bouncy. He dresses him in a Ramones t-shirt and tight jeans and minuscule converse shoes. He draws his iPod in his hand and the wires disappearing underneath his curls. He wants so badly to colour in the green of his eyes, wants to know how to shade with pencils so his dimples are bigger and deeper.  
Louis looks at the other drawings and sees that Zayn had drawn a cartoon Harry and a cartoon Louis holding hands and Louis blushes so hard he's scared that he's radiating heat across the room.

A large bang and crash snaps him back to reality and he turns to see that Harry's thrown his stereo at the wall.  
And is just staring at the new mess of black plastic and wires and exposed electrical stuff on the floor.

"...Haz?"

Harry doesn't acknowledge him, and before Louis can say anything else Harry's tipped his desk over. An assortment of papers and pens flying to the floor. 

"Harry?"

"Fuck"

"Harry?"

"Fuck!"

Harry kicked his chair over and ran his over sized hand through his curls. 

"Haz..."

"Fuck, Lou..."

"Harry, what...?", began Lou, but was interrupted by Harry letting out a painful cry. 

Harry slid a blue wooden painted box from under his bed and opened it to reveal a mess of papers, and a few other random items.

Harry started pulling things off his wall and stuffing them into the box, and with every rip something inside Louis broke a little more.

"Harry...."  
Harry tore off another photo, it was a photo of him and Louis at junior prom last year.  
Harry's curls were freshly cut and he looked a bit like a sad awkward teenage sheep, and Louis' fringe hung over his eyes like some sad emo kid. And in any other situation Louis would have laughed at the photo, and how Harry still has it on his wall. But the tension in the room was thick, and all Louis could hear was Harry's heavy breathing, shaking like it does before he bursts into tears. 

"Harry, Harry, please stop, please?", Louis begged, voice half an octave higher, like it always went when he was distressed. 

And they were quite the pair, standing metres apart in Harry's room.  
Where it was once immaculate, papers were strewn all over the floor, his radio in pieces in the corner. 

Louis had heard the phrase, 'the silence was deafening' before, but had never understood it.  
Until now.  
His ears were ringing from the unbearable silence between himself and Harry. And it seemed like the cry Harry had let out was still echoing in the room, and for some reason that tugged something in Louis' chest. 

"You want me to help you take down the photos, babe?", Louis asked, trying to pretend his voice wasn't shaking as much as it was. 

When Harry didn't reply Louis took a step forward and put a daring hand on Harry's shoulder.  
"You tell me what ones you want and I'll stick them in the box, yeah?", Louis tried again, "a'right babe?".

Harry nodded and Louis started gently pulling off the pictures and things he definitely wanted.  
A photo of Harry and Gemma as babies, Harry and Louis on their first day of High School, a fairly recent photo of Harry and his mum at the beach, a drawing from Zayn, a postcard from Gemma, his ticket for The Fray, which he and Louis went to a year ago.

It was their first concert ever, and they lined up for ages so they could get as close to the stage as possible. As soon as they got into the stadium Harry grabbed Louis' hand and didn't let go the whole concert. Their lining up had paid off and they were about 6 rows from the stage. It was hot and sweaty and loud and pushy and overwhelming, but Louis didn't care because Harry was holding his hand. And he could barely concentrate on the concert because Harry was holding his hand. And it was the best thing ever.

"That was the best day ever", Harry spoke up, interrupting Louis' memory. 

"What?"

"The concert, it was the best thing ever", he said again, making Louis blush so hard he tasted blood under his tongue. 

"Yeah", Louis mustered, internally commanding his face to return to it's natural colour, "It was". 

Louis turned to place the ticket in the blue box and met Harry's concerned gaze. 

"Haz...", he begun, drawing out the vowel like a whiny child would. Except with nothing but concern etched into the nickname. 

"Mm?", 

"Are we okay?", Louis asked, biting his lip softly, another nervous habit that Louis had.

Harry found it unnerving that he knew all of Louis' little quirks and habits, and exactly what each one meant and why he did them. He felt so in sync with Louis that it was edging on ridiculous, they had only known each other for five years but it felt like a lifetime. 

"We've always been okay boo", Harry reassured him, using his softest voice that he only ever used with Louis. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about you, and angry at my parents, and angry at your parents and pissed off at Stan and the lads and I'm confused and I'm scared Lou, but we're gonna get out of here, I promise".

Louis nodded, "I'm sorry for being such a bother..."

"Louis, no. You're not a bother, I love you more than anyone. I'm here to help you, and that's more important to me than anything, that you get better, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault", he took a step forward and tipped his chin up with his thumb so they were looking each other in the eyes, "I promise". 

Louis swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to smile weakly, it was barely a twitch but Harry noticed, of course, and gave him the biggest smile back before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. 

Harry took the ticket from Louis' hand and placed it in the box half-heartedly, before closing it. 

"I've got everything I need right here", he whispered softly, enveloping Louis in his gangly arms,

"So let's get out of here".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me! I'm so happy people are actually reading and enjoying this (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of rambly and short sorry babes, but it does have some important background stuff.

After Harry had packed as many clothes as possible, and the blue box, into his tiny backpack, they were in Louis' car again. Harry driving. 

"You really shouldn't be driving Haz", Louis warned, "you're only on your learners, and I haven't got a full license"

"I do it all the time", Harry sighed, "honestly Lou, stop worrying".

"Fine, but when we get pulled over by police and they find out not only are you disobeying driving laws, but that we are runaways as well, I'm not going to be laughing", Louis snapped, lack of sleep, mixed with the fact it was only 5 in the morning making him grouchy. 

"Okay, we'll swap after we've stopped for breakfast and you've had enough to eat", Harry stated bluntly, "you're a fucking car wreck waiting to happen, mate"

"But I'm not hungry this early in the morning!", Louis protested, "I'm fine to drive!".

"You need energy to keep your brain working in order to drive a vehicle Lou", he told him, "it's common sense".

There was nothing Harry hated more than forcing Louis to eat, sometimes he wished that it was okay for Louis not to eat, that it was okay for no one to eat. He wished that Louis could eat normally and he wished that he wasn't sick. They hadn't discussed the 'A' word yet, the closest they got was Louis admitting he was 'on a bit of a diet', which was false but Harry just nodded sadly, running his hands down his back and trying not to notice how far his spine stuck out.

After a while Harry got used to it, his bones were commonplace when they touched, the dizziness was normal and Harry's hands reacted quicker than light to catch him like it was second nature. The crying and the lying still hurt so so much, but Harry had learnt how to calm him down so the demons stayed for a little less time than usual and Louis was able to breathe deeper around Harry. Even though it pained his rib cage, which stuck out so much Harry was surprised the skin on his chest hasn't torn open, just so that his lungs had room to breathe.

Harry pulled into a tiny café and Louis couldn't help but groan slightly. 

"I'm craving an egg and bacon mcmuffin so consider yourself lucky", Harry snapped, trying not to sound too exasperated by Louis' complaining.

"As long as I can drive", Louis sighed, sliding out of the car.

Louis sat down at the table inside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and taking advantage of the free wifi there. Harry ordered a black coffee for Louis and a caramel mocha for himself. After umm-ing and ah-ing at the display case of food he chose a packet of pikelets with strawberry jam and a banana and an orange.

He slid the tea across to Louis and sat down at the other side of the table. 

"I got you an orange", Harry told him, rolling it towards him. It hit his elbow and rolled back to the middle of the table.

"It's black coffee", he tried again. Louis just grunted and didn't take his eyes off of his phone. 

"And we've got pikelets, you can have them plain, but I've got jam if you want", Harry was trying not to sound desperate as he opened the packet of pikelets and counted them, 24, he split the packet and put 6 on one half and the rest on the other and pushed the half with 6 in front of Louis.

Louis sipped his coffee and kept scrolling through his phone, tumblr, it looked like from where Harry was sitting. He was practically addicted to the thing, Harry knew Louis' URL but he also hasn't updated for it for almost 2 months. He figured he had a secret blog, not knowing what was on it made him sick to his stomach. Trying to guess what was on it made him feel worse.

Harry practically inhaled the pikelets, got through 18 before Louis even ate 3, fingers sticky with Jam and crumbs.  
They didn't have dinner, and Harry ate when he was stressed. Which he was, ridiculously so. 

"I'm going to go wash my hands baby, be right back", Harry promised. Shuffling from the cracking leather chair, Louis hummed in response, staying silent as he had since they arrived in the cafe. 

Harry made his way into the bathroom to pee and wash his hands, he looked in the mirror and groaned when he saw how shit he looked. Dark circles around his eyes, pale face paler than usual, curls limp and sad. After Louis fell asleep last night he couldn't sleep, listening to Louis' dad scream and carry on, to Louis' mother on the phone he assumed.

Louis' mother lives in Doncaster, but after his parents got divorced his father moved to Holmes Chapel. Louis used to spend every other weekend with his father, which turned to every weekend after he met Harry at the park one weekend, when they were 10 and 11.

They quickly became best friends and spent almost every weekend together. That summer Louis begged his mother to let him spend the holidays at his fathers so he could see Harry everyday. As the summer came to an end the fact that Louis would go back to Doncaster dawned on the two boys. Louis would start at the high school in Doncaster and Harry (who skipped a year) would start at the high school in Holmes Chapel. 

Harry was the one who suggested Louis stay in Holmes Chapel, and he remembers that day like it was just yesterday. 

He held his shaking hand as Louis called his mother to tell her he wasn't coming home. He had already asked his father, and he just said, "sure, just don't annoy me". Louis had cried, and Louis' mum had cried. Harry sat beside Louis and held his hand, bringing him tissues and water when he needed. But after the crying had stopped Louis and Harry were nothing but happy, because they knew that now they wouldn't be separated, ever. 

Harry kinda considers it the day he kinda fell in love with Louis.

Harry never liked Louis' dad, never. And last night his hatred for him reached an absolute high. 

"He's in my house Jo! Under my roof, in the bed I bought him, sleeping with a boy! A boy Jo! I've had enough", he had screamed from the other side of the house, and Harry was thankful Lou had fallen asleep by then. 

"Well if you don't want the faggot I'm certainly not keeping it", Harry flinched when he called him 'it'. Pained like the words were directed at him, and in a way they were, him and Lou had slowly morphed into the same person after all these years. When people bullied Louis, Harry felt it, when Louis was in pain, Harry felt it. Kinda like a creepy sixth sense. 

"I'm kicking him out! I'm done! If he's not out by tomorrow I'll physically remove him", Louis' dad spat, before he heard a bang, which founded an awful lot like the phone being thrown at the wall. 

Harry couldn't sleep, the words ringing in his ears. The terrible things he'd said about Louis, his Louis, made him shake with anger. Harry had just held him closer to his chest and cried, as quietly as possible into Louis' soft hair and Louis held him back even though he was sleeping. 

See. Creepy sixth sense. 

Harry decided he had to get Louis out of there as soon as possible. And the old lake house sounded perfect. 

"Hazza", came Louis' weak voice from the bathroom door. "Can we just go?", he practically begged. 

"Alright, alright, just let me wash my hands."

-

When they got back in the car, drinks in the cup holder, fruit left behind, much to Harry's protest and Louis' relief, Louis was shaking.

"I can't eat, Harry", he shook his head, running his shaky hands through his hair. "I just can't", and the look in his eyes was so defeated, so disappointed and lost that Harry just crumpled under the gaze. 

"Oh Lou...", he sighed, reaching for the shaking boy, but Louis had already gotten the message and had climbed into Harry's lap, nuzzling his face into Harry's neck. 

Harry enveloped the tiny boy in his long arms, "I'm sorry boo, I'm sorry you're sick", Harry spoke slowly and evenly, and it was always so calming to Louis.

"'m not sick", Louis mumbled into his neck. "I'm on a diet".

"This isn't a diet. Diet's aren't like this". 

"Just a diet."

"No Lou, when a diet makes you feel this terrible, that's when it's an illness."

"I'm not a fucking.... anorexic, Harry"

"I think you mi-"

"You have to be underweight to be an anorexic", he mumbled so lowly Harry almost missed it. 

"I highly doubt you're at a healthy weight Lou"

"What would you know", he whispered, in a way that sounded everything but nasty, just sad.

"I can feel your bones", he stated, pulling a light finger up his spine, before caressing his shoulder bones, provoking a different type of shudder to run through his body.

"You're pressing down", he insisted.

"Not even a little bit", he promised, stamping a kiss to his temple. 

"Yes, you are", he whined, wriggling away from his touch. He leant against the steering wheel and stared at him for a second that felt like an hour. It took everything Harry had not to swoop forward and kiss him. 

And when Louis moved back to his own seat Harry bit his lip to stop himself from telling him to stay in his lap. 

Harry started the car (because Louis hadn't eaten all his breakfast) and turned on one of his mixes he'd made, it was one he'd heard a lot before and was willing to listen to again and again. And Louis rested his head against the window as the opening to Heart Out by The 1975 started playing. 

Harry turned into a gravelly road which would lead him to the lake house his parents bought together but never went to anymore. 

An acoustic by Brand New started playing and Louis began to snore. Cute little grunty noises that flipped things in Harry's stomach. 

Harry did like Louis. He was practically in love with him. Louis knew Harry was gay, and Harry knew Louis was gay. They were the only ones who knew that about each other. They told each other when they were 13, and it was the most pathetic thing ever. They both cried and cried. The night ended with an awkward, desperate, and emotional make out session. Which they then promised not to repeat ever again, and to never talk about it. 

Like, ever. 

It was awkward and messy and they both kept to their promise and never did talk about that night.

But still, something tugged in Harry's chest whenever he thought about it.

As Harry turned into the long driveway up to the lake house thunder rolled in the horizon. It was only midday and the sky was already turning dark. 

Harry stopped the car in front of the once beautiful, now overgrown with moss, house. Another roll of thunder shook from above, and just on queue the skies opened up above them, seemingly only to add another thing to the list of things Harry was upset about. 

Louis whimpered brokenly from the passenger seat, and Harry sighed deeply. Louis hated storms. 

It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while,   
> tw for self harm

Louis was wrapped around Harry, knees digging into his back, face buried in his neck and arms thrown around his shoulders, clinging like a koala bear.

The house wasn't disgusting, like Harry feared it might be. It was dusty and dark (no power), and just a little bit too cold for comfort. Which translated to 'freezing' for Louis, which explains the shivering boy clinging to his torso for warmth. 

Harry was shuffling through the kitchen cupboards, he had unearthed flour and sugar and baking powder and bottles of emergency water, an armful of tins and cans and a red plastic box of probably expired lollies and chocolates. Harry feared opening the fridge, worried he'd find himself facing mouldy leftovers and other disgusting things, but when he finally bucked up the courage to open the fridge there was exactly nothing in there. 

Harry glanced up at the old grandfather clock in the living room and saw that it was almost 1, it would take until 2 to get back into town if they left now, and then another hour to shop, and then another hour to get back to the house. Harry had a fear of driving at night, but if they left now they'd get back by 4, perfect.

"Why don't we just stay at a motel", Louis asked, mumbling the words into the crook of Harry's neck. 

"Not tonight", Harry told him, "we're safe here"

"But it's cold", he complained, clutching Harry tighter for emphasis, as another roll of thunder shook through the house. 

"I'm pretty sure there's a generator I can turn on for power, get the heating going", Harry tried to reassure him, but Louis just whined loudly. 

"It's dark and scary and I hate it!"

"I know, babe", Harry tried again, but honestly just felt at a loss with the boy.

If he was being entirely honest, they could stay at a motel. It would be more comfortable, Louis would feel safer, and they could shower and Harry could cook Louis meals he wouldn't eat. 

But Harry couldn't just waste his money on a motel room when he had to look after Louis. 

They needed food, and oil for the generator, and he knew that if there was anywhere for their parents to look for them, it would be the only motel in town. 

Harry knew the old lake house would be the absolute last place they'd want to search. For a split-second he humoured over if his parents would even notice he was gone. Considering how little time they spent at home.

And Louis' dad, well, Louis' dad doesn't want him anyway.

"We gotta go to the supermarket for food and oil for the generator, babe"

Louis groaned and shook his head, "no Harry, we just got here, I just wanna sleep"

"All you wanna do is sleep, babe", Harry joked lovingly. 

Louis just groaned again because it was true, all he wanted to do was sleep. Lately he'd been more tired than ever, he slept late in the mornings, slept in class sometimes, more than a few times during lunch break he had fallen asleep in Harry's lap, he went to sleep as soon as he got home from school, consequent of that he would wake at 2 in the morning. 

Which actually worked out in his favour, because then he could workout in his bedroom in the dark. Doing crunches until he was aching and sweat pooled in his stomach, push ups until his arms were shaking, squats until his vision began to blur and the room began to spin. He'd wake up 6 mornings out of 7 passed out on the floor, bruises from where his bones pressed against the hard floorboards. 

"I'll stay here, nap on the couch", Louis insisted, slipping out of Harry's arms and fixing a fake smile on his lips. Harry shook his head, "no", he answered, "you can nap in the car".

Louis shook his head, panic setting in. To be perfectly honest, Louis needed time alone, he needed it more than he needed Harry, which was a first. But so many things had happened over the past 24 hours, his head was spinning, and he knew for sure this time it wasn't from the lack of food.

"Please Harry, I'll be fine", Louis insisted again, smile thinner now. 

"I- I can't Louis", he stuttered, shaking his head, "I can't trust you"

"You can't trust me?", Louis snapped, sounding offended and hurt at the same time. 

"I-", Harry started, before Louis cut him off,

"You think as soon as you leave I'm gonna shove my fingers down my throat!?", Louis raised his voice, practically shouting how. 

"Think I'll drop dead? Think I'll go off myself?"

"Lou-"

"You think you know everything, Harry! But you don't!"

"I thought we were best friends, Louis", Harry spat, trying to keep his voice steady but failing miserably. 

"I thought we had no secrets, I thought we made a promise!"

"Yeah, you thought", Louis said under his breath, but still loud enough for Harry to hear. 

"I thought that's what you thought as well", Harry choked out, voice cracking. 

Which Louis hated because Harry was about to cry, and Louis hated when Harry cried, and Harry cried all the time, he was so sensitive, so breakable, so emotional. And Louis hated it, because in these moments he was helpless, that on top of the fact that it's the fourth time he's been a reason for him crying over the past two days.

"I'll be fine, Harry, just go", he looked down at the grey carpet under his shoes, watching the blue of his toms leak and spill into the carpet. 

Before he could change his mind and beg Harry to stay so Louis could wipe the tears from his pale cheeks and tell him they were best friends forever and ever and that he loved him, the door slammed, and Louis felt all the warmth that Harry seemingly carried with him leave the room. Along with that a flash of lightning lit the quickly darkening room. And Louis slumped down against the back of the kitchen bench, pulling his knees up to his chin and shaking violently. The tears in his eyes spilling over and down his flushed cheeks.

Louis let out a choked sob as more tears fell, "Harry", he cried, "Harry!",

"Harry! Harry!! Harryharryharry! Harry please!", Louis yelled out into the empty house, "come back! Harry! Come back"

He was hyperventilating now, using all the air in his lungs to scream out the boy who wasn't coming back's name.

In these moments Louis' mind always races as fast as possible, he comes up with awful situations and lets his mind convince him of terrible things.

What if Harry didn't come back? What if he just went back home? It hurt because Louis knew he could, he had a home waiting for him, warm and safe, parents who wanted him. Louis had nowhere to go, his father didn't want him, and his mother wouldn't either if she found out he was gay. 

The loneliness was overwhelming him, and the not knowing whether Harry was coming back or not was killing him. 

Before Louis could register what was happening his body had picked him up and moved him back into the kitchen, his shaky hands opening up the top drawer. He felt like he was watching himself through another body, his actions controlled through another force completely. 

He picked up a sharp looking butchers knife, running the tip over his thumb to check the sharpness. The pain seemed to shock himself back into his physical body, and he was holding the knife and watching the blood bubble up over the pale skin on his thumb. 

"Shit", Louis whispered. But he knew what he was doing, Louis pulled up the sleeve of his (Harry's actually, he realised) sweater and pressed the silver of the knife against his thin forearm, readying himself to ruin it, and cover old scars with fresh wounds. 

When Louis cut it felt like time sped up, and before he knew it his arm was burning and bleeding, blood was leaking on the white tiles and black spots were appearing in front of his eyes. 

Louis was whimpering from the pain, the knife now placed on the bench. At the same time Louis felt a type of dizzy relief that was familiar and safe, unlike the feeling of being alone in some old house and not knowing whether Harry, his beautiful best friend Harry who was always there for him, would come back or not, which was unfamiliar and scary.

Louis didn't realise he was sitting down until a particularly loud burst of thunder came from above the house and Louis jumped so much his head hit the back of a cupboard. 

Louis hated thunder because it reminded him of yelling, it reminded him of things being thrown at walls and floors and him, it reminded him of his dad hitting him. He couldn't stand it. 

The grandfather clock struck three and he realised it had been almost two hours since Harry left. He was cradling his arm against his chest, he couldn't feel his fingers now and was still crying silently and uncontrollably. 

He was scared, Louis was scared. Not just of being alone but of the number on the scale, how it got lower every time he stepped on but he looked fatter in the mirror. His eyes didn't work and it was scaring him, but it wasn't just that. Louis was scared of his father, was scared of his uncontrollable drunken fits and the bruises that littered his body. Louis was scared of the blades, of the scars on his bulbous hips and massive thighs, but above all Louis was scared of his feelings towards Harry. Louis didn't want to admit he was in love with the younger boy, but everyday it felt like he was falling more in love with him. 

Everything about Harry took Louis' breath away, his gorgeous curls, his joyful eyes, his dimples when he smiled so wide it almost looked painful. 

He loved his long gentle fingers, especially when they played with his hair. He loved how long and lanky Harry is, how his miles of pale skin stretched over bone and muscle, flawless, fit and thin. He loved his long legs, his cute little bum, even his extra nipples.

He loved every physical aspect of Harry, but above that he just loved Harry. Everything about Harry. His laugh, his gentleness, his humour, his lack thereof, his lovingness, his friendliness, even his oversensitivity. He loved his honesty, and his protectiveness, he loved the way he knew Louis like the back of his hand. 

Louis loved Harry.

And that scared him more than anything.

-

Harry was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. He was speeding, which was dumb, he was also speeding whilst it was raining, which was like double dumb. 

But Harry needed to get back to Louis, he knew he was hurting, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach and the back of his throat. He shouldn't have left him upset, he was probably over thinking now. 

Harry was scared he'd come back to Louis, much like he had before, passed out on the bathroom floor smelling of vomit and sweat. Harry had done the research, knew the dangers, he often had nightmares of ruptured oesophagus's and ambulance rides. You'd think that knowing these things Harry would never leave Louis, but he still did. Obviously Harry was an awful friend.

He brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the house, leaving the groceries in the car. Practically sprinting out of the car and up the stairs to the front door. He hasn't locked it and neither had Louis obviously so it flung open and shook the wall.

"Louis, baby, you okay?", Harry called out. Half of him was hoping that he'd just find Louis sleeping peacefully on the couch, like he'd promised. 

But the couches were empty, "Louis?", Harry called, softer this time but more panicked. 

"Harry?", Louis' voice squeaked from the kitchen. 

Harry looked over towards the kitchen but didn't see him standing there. His heart started beating so fast out of panic he felt as if he was about to die right then.

He gripped the top of the couch and tried to steady his voice, "Louis, are you okay?". There was a moment of silence before Louis whimpered out a "no", and then bursting into tears. 

Harry rushed over behind the counter to find Louis was curled up in himself, leaning his back against a cupboard and crying helplessly. 

"I thought you weren't going to come back", Louis whispered, "I was so scared". 

Louis' face and eyes were red, and it looked like he had been crying for hours. He moved his hand up to rub the tears from his eyes and that was when he noticed the blood and Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. 

"Baby...", Harry whispered, dropping to his knees in front of the crying boy.

"Oh Louis, no...", he choked out, gently grabbing his hand and holding his arm out to inspect the damage.

"I'm sorry", Louis whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, but Harry held tighter.

"God Louis, no, don't be sorry, never sorry",

"I fucked up"

"No you didn't, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you here like that"

"It's not your fault"

"If I hadn't said those things maybe you would have been okay", Harry looked so frustrated, so guilty and angry at himself Louis could barely handle it. 

"I was upset anyway, Harry, it happens", Louis tried (and failed) to reassure him.

"It shouldn't happen, I-I thought you stopped?", Harry asked, a million questions on the back of his tongue that he was too afraid to ask.

"I-I did for a-a while b-but then I like I-I started again, and I-I didn't want to say anything, I'm sorry", Louis stuttered out.

"How didn't I notice, I'm so stupid, fuck, I'm supposed to look after you Louis". Harry pulled on his wrist tighter and before Louis could tug it away again Harry dipped his head and pressed his lips against a cut on the inner tip of Louis' wrist, where his arm met his hand. 

Louis gasped sharply but didn't try and move his wrist away time.

"I wish I could make you better, Lou", Harry said before pressing more soft kisses against the boys cuts.

"Harry, stop, please, 's gross", Louis pleaded, cringing at the way Harry's lips smudged the blood.

"Am I gross?", Harry asked, genuinely. And Louis wanted to say yes, yes Harry looked gross right now. He had traces of blood, Louis' own self inflicted blood, on his lips, chin and nose. His eyes were red and watery from crying and his nose was red as well. His lips were pink and chapped and he had obviously been chewing on them. He was wet from the rain and his curls were greasy. 

He wanted to say, "yes, Harry, you look gross, disgusting even". But that would be a lie. Because Harry was gorgeous all the time. Harry was perfect. Louis was irrationally jealous. I mean, who else managed to look flawless after crying and not showering for a day or two. Only Harry, it seemed, which just wasnt fair.

Louis looked up at Harry to reassure him that he wasn't gross, but before he could open his mouth to say anything Harry's lips were on his.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing anything properly???  
> Sorry if its terrible???  
> Advice is nice (: (y)


End file.
